Chapter 1
My husband, Julian Croft... the man who makes Wall Street tremble.
He has an adopted sister, Chloe.
An angel-faced code wizard who's nothing but trouble.
For eight years, their dynamic has never changed.
Chloe uses her keyboard to cause chaos,
and Julian uses his money and power to wipe it all clean.
Their toxic bond slowly choked out our marriage.
Until today... when she finally targeted me.
I was cruising the coast when her malware hijacked my Tesla's autopilot.
The steering wheel jerked on its own.
The car spun out of control, tore through the guardrail,
and left me dangling over a 300-foot drop.
I woke up in the hospital, hooked up to a dozen tubes.
Julian stood by my bed, signing a surgical consent form.
His Armani suit was perfectly tailored.
He just looked a little tired.
He sighed.
"Eleanor, don't be mad at Chloe. She was just playing a prank."
"She did her research.
The car has world-class airbags and safety features.
She just wanted to give you a... surprise."
The second he finished signing, his assistant called.
Chloe was being harassed by some punks at an exclusive Manhattan club.
Julian bolted out the door instantly.
He was in such a rush,
he didn't even notice the fatal mistake he made on my medical chart.
Under my blood type, he checked "Type A".
A cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in my mind.
It was the System, back after all these years.
[Trigger Activated:
Fatal hemolytic reaction from incorrect blood transfusion.
Outcome:
Manslaughter by Male Lead. Do you accept this route?]
I looked at the blood bag the nurse rolled in.
The tag clearly said "A". But I am Type O.
I smiled, and said softly, "Do it."
……
"Mrs. Croft, this bag is Type A. Are you absolutely sure?"
The young nurse looked a bit uneasy, holding the bag of blood.
"I'm sure." My voice was as calm as if I were discussing the weather.
"My husband confirmed it himself. There's no mistake."
The nurse hesitated,
but ultimately trusted the paperwork.
The cold needle pierced my skin.
That dark red liquid dripped, drop by drop,
crawling down the clear IV tube and seeping into my bloodstream.
[Route Confirmed. Fatal hemolytic reaction countdown initiated.]
[Estimated survival time: 72 hours.]
I closed my eyes,
feeling an alien, chaotic burn surging through my veins.
In less than half an hour,
an agonizing pain ripped through my back,
like a thousand ants gnawing away at my kidneys.
Violent chills racked my body until my teeth rattled in my skull.
The hospital door burst open, and Julian strode in.
He smelled like an expensive mix of whiskey and cigars from the club,
laced with a faint trace of women's perfume.
Some cheap body glitter was stuck to his handcrafted white dress shirt.
Behind him stood Chloe, completely unharmed.
Trembling in a sexy slip dress,
she clung to the hem of Julian’s jacket,
her face still streaked with crocodile tears.
"What kind of stunt are you pulling now?"
Julian stood by the bed, staring down at me, his brows tightly furrowed.
"The doctor said you only had a mild concussion and a few scrapes.
What's with the dramatic shaking?
Who are you putting on a show for?!"